Hiss off
by HaneGaNai
Summary: If Stiles ever imagined himself as something else than human then, given his affiliation with werewolves, he imagined he'd end up as one of those. Claws and fangs, getting his time of the month, a disturbing lack of eyebrows and all the jazz. Now this though, this was unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

If Stiles ever imagined as something else than human then, given his affiliation with werewolves, he imagined he'd end up as one of those. Claws and fangs, getting his time of the month, a disturbing lack of eyebrows and all the jazz.

Now this though, this was unexpected.

And honestly infuriating, when the red dot disappeared under his paw and he came back to his senses cursing Erica vehemently. He had to contain his anger to a growl and a swipe at her hand when she leaned down to pet him though, but he was quite content at the hiss the she-wolf let out.

He knew all his friends were assholes, but they took too much pleasure from his suffering. Even Scott tried to get him to chase a ball of yarn and they were supposed to be brothers.

Fed up with being treated as the pack pet he trotter over to Peter and hopped up on the arm of the chair. Stiles pushed his head against the werewolf's hand until Peter lifted the book he had been reading and made room for Stiles to curl in his lap. This was one of the few places safe from the Betas. Peter's long fingers scratching behind his ears was just an added bonus.

His dad always told him that it would be Stiles' mouth that would get him into trouble. Stiles could admit he was mouthy, to a point where he acted like a raging dick even. But where some people responded to danger with the urge to flight or fight he, well, his usual response was to talk back.

On most occasion it was a fifty/fifty chance he'd get mauled so it wasn't all that surprising when the witch they were trying to chase off felt offended by one of his comments and decided to give him a lesson.

She flicked her wrist and muttered something under her nose and Stiles' body began shifting. She vanished in a veil of red smoke before any of the wolves present could even react. The change wasn't as much painful as it was uncomfortable; his body rearranging itself and all that much harrier as he shrunk, the world suddenly a much bigger place.

When the discomfort brought by the transformation finally lessened Stiles tried to assess the damage and what he saw made him meow in distress.

The pack's first reaction, after the initial shock, was to fucking _coo_ at him. Sure, being petted felt rather nice, but he could seriously do without all the poking and prodding and Isaac pulling at his damn _tail_.

The Betas only relented when Derek – who didn't join in on the inquisition – practically roared at them seeing as him asking them to let Stiles go in his normal voice didn't really work on them.

Only then did they go to Deaton, not that it really helped them much. Color Stiles surprised.

"The spell should wear off on its own in about two weeks time so I suggest we just wait it out." The vet told them after examining Stiles' new body. It was such a traumatizing experience that Stiles actually allowed Scott to scoop him up in his arms.

Stiles wanted to ask about the 'should' part of the sentence, but all he could really manage at the moment was meowing or growling which that only made him feel worse. Scott must have sensed his distress because he rubbed Stiles' back soothingly.

"And if it doesn't?" His best friend asked, but the vet remained ominously silent.

Just perfect.

"_What if it doesn't_?" Derek stressed from where he was leaning against the wall.

Deaton seemed to mull over the question and after a sigh finally answered. "There's a ritual I can perform, but it's not completely risk free. If something goes wrong, if the spell cast on Stiles differs even the slightest bit from the well-known original one we might end up trapping him in this form."

"You mean Stiles might be a cat for the rest of his life." Scott repeated and the doc just nodded. Heaving a tired sigh he scratched at Stiles' ear. "Trust it to be you to get yourself turned into a cat that runs with wolves."

Stiles mewled pitifully not really appreciating the humor at the moment.

"So what do we do now?" Isaac asked, peering at Stiles over Scott's shoulders. It looked like he too wanted to join in on the comfort petting, but seemed to remember the way Stiles clawed at him for pulling at his tail. Werewolf healing or not it seemed that cat scratched were still pretty painful.

It was Derek's turn to sigh. "I guess we'll have to notify the Sheriff and Stiles will just stay home for now. The rest of us will try to find the witch and learn as much of the spell as we can."

Stiles tapped a paw at Scott's arm to get his attention and after a moment of confusion his friend seemed to catch on. Their problems just kept piling up.

"Yeah, about that. See, there might be a small problem with Stiles going home."

"And why's that?"

All in all, Stiles' dad took the news of his son's new furry status quite well. Though considering this was not even close to some things that happened since they let the man in on the werewolf secret Stiles shouldn't really be surprised.

"Allergic." Derek deadpanned.

"Yes. Found out quite abruptly when Stiles decided to adopt a whole litter in first grade." The Sheriff wiped at his watering eyes and reached for another tissue.

His dad started sniffling the moment Stiles appeared at the door with Scott and Derek in tow. Stiles felt really bad for causing his father any kind of discomfort, but at the same time he really wished he could just reach up and hug him.

Scott crouched next to Stiles who was sitting on the floor, ears flat against his head and tail wrapped tightly around him. "I guess Stiles could stay with us." Scott supplied reaching out to pick him up again. All the carrying around was beginning to piss Stiles off. "Mom always wanted a cat."

Stiles huffed angrily at that and swatted at Scott's hand with his claws. He was no fucking pet, no matter how he presently looked. He wriggled out of his friend's grip and landed neatly on the floor. At least the newly gained ability to stay balanced came in handy. He trotted over to the armchair and jumped up onto it, curling into a surly ball.

"You are aware that Stiles is not actually a cat, right?" He heard Derek scold Scott.

"I know that!" His friend exclaimed. "I was just saying that it would be okay for him to stay with us."

The two werewolves kept arguing and Stiles shut them out. All he wanted was to be human again, back in his own skin in his own room. He seriously hoped they would manage to find a solution soon, because spending the rest of his life as a house pet forced to stay out of his own house was not what he wanted out of his life.

His dad perched on the arm of the chair and brushed his fingers over Stiles' head. "I'm sorry, Stiles. I know this must be really hard for you, but my allergy aside, I really think it would be better if you stayed with one of your friends for the time being. I'd feel better knowing that there's someone with you while I'm at work, in case something else happened."

Stiles pushed his head into his dad's hand and meowed silently, both in agreement and to comfort his father somewhat and let him know he understood.


	2. Chapter 2

Nights were the hardest.

The first night after the curse was cast the whole pack slept together. The piled on the stack of mattresses and sleeping bags that they dragged into the living room. Even creepy Peter joined in, though he kept to the sidelines.

Werewolves and humans alike fitted together around Stiles like wards, protecting him from the outside world, showing him that he was not alone. Scott's body was curved around Stiles while Erica stretched on his other side with a hand on his flank.

Waking up with half of the pack still dozing in the pile made him feel warm and safe, even if Isaac's hand was dangerously close to his tail. His friends couldn't spend every night at the Hale House though and even then they didn't normally do puppy piles. It happened usually when they needed reassurance, when someone got badly injured, when they felt threatened. And apparently when one of them got himself turned into a cat.

Stiles wasn't aware sleeping alone would become a problem.

The next night Stiles curled up in a bundle of blankets left for him on the couch, Isaac sitting right next to him and watching some action flick. He woke up a few hours later to a dark and quiet house, the wolves asleep at the late hour.

Waking up as a cat was confusing, to say the least. It was easier when he got up to chatter and movement, with something to catch his attention almost immediately and ground him. Without that his sleep-addled mind set into panic.

Everything was different; his vintage point when he shot up to sit, the length of his limbs and the way they worked, the distance between the couch and the floor when he tried to get down and fell instead, landing painfully on his side, still halfway tangled in his blanket.

He only realized he was having a cat's equivalent of a panic attack when Derek crouched over him, looking sleepy and irritated. His features gentled a bit however when he noticed the state Stiles was in. Big, reassuring hands slid down Stiles' back, soothing over his fur until gradually Stiles calmed down.

When his heart stopped beating as if it were trying to abandon his chest Stiles butted his head against Derek's knee by ways of expressing his gratitude. Grunting was all he got for an answer from the Alpha and that was that: Derek went back to his bedroom and Stiles curled up right there on the floor in the folds of the blanket that he dragged down when he fell.

The second night alone was easier for the simple reason that Stiles refused to fall asleep at all. Using his feline nightly vision he explored the house, checked every nook and cranny, even chased a mouse down the hall for the sheer joy of it.

He only let himself rest when Peter appeared in the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Stiles settled on the windowsill and observed the elder wolf move around in relative silence while preparing breakfast. Peter didn't acknowledge him aside from flicking Stiles' ear, not even when having to resort to werewolf reflexes to avoid the lazy swipe of claws Stiles aimed at him. Before he knew it Peter's puttering lulled him to sleep.

Derek and Peter both were adamant on treating him as normally as possible in his current condition which wasn't really that much of a surprise, when Stiles considered it hard enough.

They were both born wolves unlike the rest of the pack and as such they were fully aware how it felt to be treated differently their entire lives, Stiles thought. So there was no going easy on him for the most part when it came to them. No littering, no damaging furniture, no stealing from their plates.

But at the same time it granted him his own plate at the table when Isaac tried to leave him food in a bowl on the floor. Banning any and every sort of cat food from the house is another thing that he was grateful for, because the very smell of it made him want to puke. And sweets were a definite no, which he understood considering possible side effects on his feline metabolism.

They saved him from the collar that Erica tried to force on him as well. They didn't coo over him, which well, he never actually expected that to happen with them, but still. They even talked to him normally resorting to yes and no questions if they needed him to answer something instead of the charades the rest of the pack tried to play with him.

That didn't stop them from occasional ear scratches and belly rubs, but – cat or human body - damn him if he'd ever refuse those.

"Get back here you damn fur ball!"

Stiles jumped down the last few steps and skidded into the kitchen, bypassed Derek who was sitting at the table reading a newspaper ignored the _what the hell did you do this time_ eyebrow arch, and ducked behind the fridge. He hoped that Erica wouldn't find him there. All of the young wolves were still shit at tracking despite Derek's efforts and Peter's disapproving commentary. And while normally he would complain about it himself right in this moment it probably saved him from getting shaved in his sleep.

He heard stomping and then a shrill, "Come out, you coward! I swear I'll skin you alive."

Stiles didn't hold his breath, but inhaled and exhaled deep and slow instead, and hoped that the rushed _thumpthumtphump_ of his heart didn't betray him.

"Where is he?" He heard her demand from Derek.

"I'm not getting into this." The Alpha answered, which, wise. Stiles would pull him right down the drain with him.

"_Derek_."Erica whines. Stiles wagers she just pulled out the full pout: jutted lower lip, big gleaming eyes, _pleading_. Even Scott would hand Stiles over when facing that.

Derek however, luckily for Stiles, had become immune to that face over time and would not budge if he didn't feel like it. The silence that followed spoke of a big, fat nope, thank god.

Erica sighed and started to move around, judging by the clack of shoes against the kitchen tiles, presumably looking for him.

"What did he do this time anyways?" Derek asked, newspaper rustling.

"He rolled over my favorite black skirt. It's completely covered in his fur." She answered anger seeping back into her voice.

So maybe Stiles hadn't exactly thought it through when he decided to enact revenge for all the animal treatment he received from her. At least he managed to get rid of that nasty laser pointer before she caught him shedding on her clothes. It was a small victory in the face of imminent death.

Relatively sure that he had plenty of time to settle in his new body by the third night he settled on the couch again. Peter was the one to help him calm down that night which was, frankly, a fucking bizarre experience, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Peter must have noticed his reluctance to settle back to sleep again, because as he got up to set Stiles' blanket back on the couch, he folded it neatly. "If you're not going to sleep you can come help me with research."

His face must be expressive enough to convey exactly what he thought about Peter's proposal since the werewolf laughed as he beckoned him to follow. "You'll just meow and hiss if you notice anything relevant."

He didn't get to meow at anything that night though, falling asleep on the desk with Peter scratching between his ears only half an hour later.

Stiles groaned and sank his claws firmly into the branch, pressing himself against it as much as he could and trying not to look down. It was fucking embarrassing and he wasn't even exactly sure how it happened.

One moment he was strolling through the woods, enjoying the crunch of the leaves under his paws, happy to finally have a moment just to himself. The next he heard growling and went of running before he even got a chance to look at the huge dog chasing after him. Which somehow led to him stuck on a tree branch and having no clue how he got there exactly and how the was going to get back down. A cat's tendency of falling on four paws notwithstanding, had he ever mentioned he had fear of heights?

The dog was long since gone yet he still hadn't even tried calling for help. He had some dignity, dammit. He refused to meow for the wolves every time he got into trouble. Human him was able to deal with all kinds of difficult predicaments so Stiles was adamant on dealing with this one on his own as well. He just needed some time to adjust to his current position and to plan his way down, that was all. He'd get to saving himself in a minute.

The sun had almost set when he finally gave up on his pride. He was cold and scared and couldn't really care less about any taunting he'd have to suffer from the pack. He meowed pitifully, hoping that his friends noticed his absence and were looking for him.

As if on cue, Peter stepped under the branch he was trapped on looking far too amused. "I've been wondering how long it would take you to call for help. I must admit, you are far more stubborn than I thought." The wolf mussed and then he was right next to Stiles, lifting him up and carefully prying his claws from the bark with gentle hands.

Stiles didn't have it in him to be annoyed with the wolf and maybe that was the whole point. Peter waited him out, because he knew Stiles would be angry and might fight him over this otherwise. So instead of sinking his fangs into flesh he burrowed closer into Peter's shirt seeking all the warmth and comfort the wolf was willing to give.


	3. Chapter 3

Quite obviously Peter did his own share of teasing and honestly Stiles would be disappointed if the wolf passed the chance. The 'stuck up a tree' incident in particular had earned him a few jabs at his expense and Peter always asking him if he needed a hand the few times Stiles climbed on the back of the couch or on the counter. Yet the jokes he made or the things he did never made Stiles feel like a house pet, never made him feel as anything less. They were exactly the same jokes Peter would make if Stiles was in his original body.

When it came to the rest of the wolves though.

Stiles loved his friends, with varying levels of affection depending on the day, but pulling his tail was by no means an appropriate way to get his attention, something which he had to remind Isaac of every now and again.

The pack tried to fill in the silence Stiles left with chatter and noise, their failed attempts at normality making him want to return to his own body even more. Scott and Erica were the worst, taking it upon themselves to engage and entertain the pack however they could. It was obvious that they missed him the most even if Erica's way of showing it involved a hell of a lot of tough love.

Even though it's been some time since they were Bitten they still sometimes had problems with controlling their strength. Stiles obviously understood that and actually learned to handle it, but that was before the change. Now all the tugging and pulling, shoving and fingers jabbing into his sides hurt a bit more, because Stiles as a cat was even more fragile than Stiles as a human.

Most of the time some growling and baring his fangs at the young werewolves was enough to let them know that they went too far, that even though his body was that of a cat's it didn't mean he'd always land on four feet. That tying bows to his tail was really not appreciated, Erica, thank you.

Erica and Isaac were the usual perpetrators, with Scott right behind them on the list when he got too enthusiastic about whatever game it was they were playing. Boyd wasn't much of a problem in this category, though he could smother Stiles with petting like nobody's business. Before the curse Stiles had no idea the Beta could be so tactile.

As for the Alpha, well, Derek had his playful moments, but they really didn't seem to extend to Stiles the cat. In fact, Derek was the one interacting with Stiles the least. Which, granted Derek had been busy trying to track the witch as well as pestering Deaton over research results and keeping his wolves from trampling over Stiles, so he didn't have much time for hanging around the house with the rest of them.

It took Stiles some time to convince Derek that he was okay with the werewolf even touching him.

Derek was very reluctant to touch him at first, though Stiles suspected the Alpha was much like Boyd in the sense that they were both very inclined towards cats. Stiles had seen him with kittens at the clinic. It was the only time Derek actually looked approachable and warm. And hey, Stiles understood that he wasn't a real cat, but if petting him would soften their Alpha around the edges even slightly then, well, it was really no hardship.

Derek was always tentative about it though. Stiles supposed it was because the two of them weren't really all that close before the spell. They bickered and argued, never failed to call each other out on their shit. They could perhaps be called friends, but they didn't hang out or touch casually like Stiles and the Betas did.

So at times, when Stiles curled next to Derek looking for some refugee from the unruly Betas he'd nuzzle against the werewolf's leg or bat at his hand with a paw until Derek caught up with the program and go on with the petting. The way Derek's hand smoothed over Stiles' back was akin to the way Peter's did: gentle, regular movements that calmed Stiles down and oftentimes simply lulled him to sleep, a hint of a purr escaping him as he slipped into dream land.

And if Derek's fingers were magic, Stiles had no idea what to call Peter and the amazing ear scratches the creeper wolf performed. Stiles had to wonder where one learned such skills. The way the elder werewolf scratched between his ears and under his chin made him want to just lay there and let it happen. It was a fucking sin. A very calming and addictive one.

Stiles has always been tactile. With his dad, with Scott, then with the Betas when he slowly grew closer to them. There's nothing like a good hug when someone is feeling down or when you're happy to see someone or just feeling good and needing to share your joy. He never minded when someone leaned against him on movie nights, being on the receiving or giving end of a scalp massage, even a simple pat on the shoulder felt good.

The way he could practically demand petting and cuddling - and don't even get him started on belly rubs, dear god the _belly rubs_ – was just about the only advantage of his feline body and he was pretty shameless about it too. Sue him.

The night after he fell asleep _helping_ Peter research Stiles slipped into Isaac's room to sleep. Isaac did seem a bit surprised at the revelation, especially since Stiles might have threatened him with claws a few hours prior for making cutesy noises at him. Still he didn't protest when Stiles curled up at the foot of the bed, side pressed firmly against Isaac's ankle. The young werewolf just petted him on the head briefly and turned off the lights, curling into a ball of his own.

In his search for a full night's sleep Stiles overlooked the possibility of Isaac being a restless sleeper. Barely an hour after they fell asleep he practically kicked Stiles out of bed, which was by far the worst way Stiles has ever been woken up. Stiles' yowl of pain served to rouse the wolf as well. But even though Isaac apologized profusely and promised to try to sleep as still as a log, Stiles was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to relax enough with the chance of uncontrolled limbs flying at him. He'd expect a shove every time Isaac fidgeted.

Resigned, Stiles wandered further down the hall instead, ignoring Erica's room completely as Boyd was sure to be there and Stiles sure as hell didn't want to walk in on them.

The door to Derek's room was closed, the handle one of those twist-to-open kind that Stiles has not yet learned how to operate in his current form. He scratched at the wood insistently enough to get access to the room, then kitty-eyed access to the bed. But that was all he gained finding out pretty quickly that he fell asleep best with actual body contact and that was pretty impossible with the Alpha burrito lying right next to him. Stiles tried nonetheless and exhaustion won soon, but his sleep was fitful at best.

He followed Peter to his room the next night, subdued and tired, deciding that if he couldn't sleep during the night he'd just meow and hiss at Peter's research in appropriate places until the werewolf threw him out or turned in for the night.

They didn't really discover anything useful, but Stiles managed to make a few noises from his place next to the laptop and find the perfect spot to sleep.

He was halfway to asleep with Peter's fingers combing idly through his fur when Peter closed the lid to his laptop and stood up to stretch his joints. Stiles mourned the loss, but made no sound deciding it was his cue to go even if he'd rather spend the whole night researching with the werewolf. It was ridiculous how comfortable he felt around the creeper wolf.

Peter must have noticed his reluctance to leave the room, because when Stiles finally found his way to the floor and was about to head for the door the werewolf spoke up. "Just stay, you idiot."

Which rude, but also very surprising.

He turned to look at the werewolf sprawled on his back on the bed with one arm pillowing his head. Peter was looking at him with a small smirk on his lips and the sight was so familiar that Stiles relaxed, though he still wasn't sure how to proceed. Did he curl on the chair? Or was he allowed on the expensive looking covers? Would Peter skin him for shedding all over it?

Peter rolled his eyes and beckoned him with a hand. "Get over here already. We both know you won't sleep otherwise."

Fair, Stiles thought, as he jumped on the bed and hesitated only for a second before burrowing into Peter's side.


End file.
